XMen: Rewritten
by HayleeUp
Summary: "Why is the moon so lonely? She used to have a lover. But he can never touch her again." No Kayla. Logan loved a girl from the beginning. What happens when they meet after 15 yrs, but neither one remembers the other? Full summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

"Why is the moon so lonely? She used to have a lover. But he can never touch her again." No Kayla. Logan loved a girl from the beginning. What happens when they meet after 15 yrs, but neither one remembers the other? Full summary inside.

Haylee's been with Logan from the beginning. Like, way back when him and Victor ran away. Through all the wars and everything. She has the same claws as Logan, which is why the two of them are so close. She also has telekinesis and telepathy. She and Logan left the group after Africa and settled down in Canada, her a school teacher, him a lumberjack. After she tells him the story of Kuekuatsu, he gives her a necklace of a silver wolverine, appearing to be howling at the moon. When Stryker comes to offer Logan and Haylee a spot back on the team, and Logan turns him down, Victor came after Haylee. When she refused to go with him, he gave her the medicine he gave Kayla to knock her out, and fooled Logan into thinking he'd killed her. Logan agreed to let them do the experiment, only to get revenge on Victor. Everything that happened in Origins from the experiment point to the point when he goes to the island happens. When Logan gets to the island and finds Stryker, they bring out Haylee, who is being held on to by two huge security guards. While she was stuck with Stryker, they did the same procedure on her that they did on Logan, so now she also had the metal claws. She shows him her claws, and Logan goes to attack Stryker. That's when Victor steps in and the following fight scene ensues. Logan eventually knocks out Victor and Haylee tells him about the mutants. They go to rescue them, and after freeing them, Logan gets detained by Weapon 11. He sends Haylee to lead the mutants out, but she gets shot in the process. She sends them ahead, led by Scott and Emma (who is not related to Kayla because she doesn't exist). Haylee has the same healing abilities as Logan, but in my story, she's shot by an adomatium bullet, which takes more time to heal. Meanwhile, Logan and Victor fight Weapon 11, and they win. After the fight, Logan finds Haylee on the ground, who is very pale and looks like she's dying. He goes to get her help, but is shot by Stryker. He rounds on him to kill him, but Stryker shoots him in the head, erasing his memories. Haylee is lying on the ground when Stryker comes over to her. He aims the gun at her head and shoots her, erasing her memory, too. Then he turns and leaves, fleeing the scene. Logan wakes up, and, upon meeting up with Gambit, decides to go his own way. Before he leaves, though, he sees Haylee, who hasn't woken up yet. He sees the bullet wounds and thinks she's dead. He slowly brushes her hair out of her eyes and fingers he necklace, wondering who she is. He leaves, and Professor X finds Haylee. He has her brought onto the plane, and she becomes part of his first students, along with Scott, Jean, and Storm. The story picks up here, with Haylee a doctor/teacher at the school and Logan traveling the Canadian wilderness.

That wouldn't all fit into the little summary box, so I had to make it it's own chapter J It starts with the first X-Men movie and will go through the third, with possible one shots after. It does follow the story line of the movies to a point, but will have many more of my own little creative liberties.


	2. Chapter 2

**:)**

"_Why is the moon so lonely?" My voice was soft, haunting, the voice of someone telling a gentle love story. _

_"Why?" Amused. The voice of the man was deep, and you could tell that it had been hard once. Now, however, it was tinged with tenderness, like a father speaking to his small child, or a man speaking to his lover. _

_"Because she used to have a lover." _

_"You tell this to the kids?" He chuckled._

_A pause. "No." _

_There was a laugh. A deep, throaty laugh, warm and tangible in the silence. _

_"His name was Kuekuatsu and they lived in the spirit world together." _

_"Oh, this is a true story." _

_"Mm-hm. And every night, they would wander the skies together. But, one of the other spirits was jealous. Trickster wanted the Moon for himself. So he told Kuekuatsu that the Moon had asked for flowers; he told him to come to our world and pick her some wild roses. But Kuekuatsu didn't know that once you leave the spirit world, you can never go back. And every night, he looks up in the sky and sees the Moon and howls her name. But... he can never touch her again." _

_Dramatic pause. "Wow. Koo-koo-ka-choo got screwed." _

_Annoyed pause. "Kuekuatsu," the man chuckled, and I giggled. "Means the Wolverine."_

It was always the same dream. Always darkness. There were no faces, no movements, only voices. I could practically repeat every word.

I could feel the night that I told the story in the dream, though. The cool night wind whistling through the open window, the soft cotton of my nightdress, the warmth of the man's lap underneath my legs. I could hear the radio in the background, some old country song playing. I could smell the whiskey on the man's breath, taste it on my lips.

His voice is what haunted me.

That, and the fact that I'd been having this dream for several years now, and I had no clue why.

* * *

><p>Logan was pissed.<p>

That man in the ring had lost fair and square and Logan didn't owe him a damn penny. _Well, _Logan thought with a smirk. _Not exactly fair and square, but hey, he had his gifts just as the man did, and he was allowed to use them._

Before starting up the trailer, Logan ran his hands over his knuckles, wincing when he touched three particularly sensitive spots. That grand reveal in the bar had been stupid of him, exposing himself like that. He shouldn't have let his anger get the best of him. That place had earned him more than enough cash, and it definitely sucked to have to leave. But he'd find somewhere else, just like he always did.

He wasn't particularly fond of this life, the constant running, going from nameless town to nameless town, only stopping for a little while, then back on the road. He'd been doing it for years though, so all the little towns eventually ran together, all the people became the same. The snowy, cold countryside of Canada was a great place to lose yourself if you wanted to. And when you couldn't remember a thing past fifteen years ago, losing yourself sounded like a damn good idea.

With a sigh, Logan started up the trailer.

Snow was coming down in soft, fluffy tendrils, melting as it hit the windshield. His car's thermostat read thirteen degrees Fahrenheit and dropping. It was gonna be a cold night.

About ten miles down the road, Logan smelled a change in the air. Quite literally. The air smelled different in his trailer than it usually did.

He sniffed. Yep, something was definitely off.

Pulling the trailer over to side of the road, Logan opened his door and got out, making his way to the metal trailer attached to the bigger trailer. A large bulge was visible under a green blanket. Warily, he poked it.

It wiggled.

Annoyance clouding his features, Logan pulled the blanket back.

Underneath was a small girl, no older than fifteen, wearing a large dark green cloak. She squinted up at him as if he had just woken her up.

Logan was not amused. "What the hell are you doing?" he growled.

"I'm sorry. I need a ride, I thought you could help me. I…" The girl stuttered, her thick southern accent catching Logan by surprise. What the hell was she doing up here in Canada? And in his trailer, for God's sake?

"Get out!"

"Where am I supposed to go?" She pouted, climbing out of the bed of the trailer.

"I don't know." He picked up her bag and dropped it into the road.

"You don't know, or you don't care?" She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to look defiant. In retrospect, she looked like a small kitten trying to be big and bad by hissing and showing her claws.

"Pick one," Logan said, turning his back to her and walking back to the driver's side.

"I saved your life!" The girl called to him desperately, a final attempt at hitching a ride.

"No, you didn't," Logan shut his door and started up the car. He made it about twenty feet before sighing angrily, stopping the car, and pinching the bridge of his nose.

* * *

><p>"Ladies and gentlemen," I spoke into the microphone, addressing the house of representatives and many watching spectators. "We are now seeing the beginnings of another stage of human evolution. These mutations manifest at puberty, and are often triggered by periods of heightened emotional stress." <em>I should know, <em>I thought. "Thank you, Miss Halliwell! That was-quite educational. However it fails to address the issue which is the focus of this hearing. Three words: are mutants dangerous."

I ground my teeth in frustration. "That's an unfair question, Senator Kelly. After all, the wrong person behind the wheel of a car can be dangerous."

"Well, we do license people to drive," he argued.

"But not to live."

The senator paused for a moment, flustered by my quick come-back. "Ms. Halliwell, you work at a school in Westchester, New York. Can you tell the members of this committee what exactly you are teaching these children?"

"Math. History. Science. English. Athletics," I named off our courses, leaving out some of the more unusual, of course. He'd gotten the teaching at the school part right. It was simply the 'children' part that he'd been off base on.

"Now, can you tell me, Miss Halliwell, would you want the innocent students sitting in your classroom to be exposed to others with the ability to kill them? Your children, unable to defend themselves, would be destroyed instantly when put in a room with a mutant unable to control his or her powers."

I sighed. That was an unfair argument. "Senator…"

The Senator pulled out a picture from his file and sat it on top of my papers under the projector. The image on the screen was a grainy, super- zoomed, somewhat obscured image of a car on a freeway which appeared to have "melted." _Damn it, _I thought. _Now he's really playing the crowd._

"This was taken by a state police officer in Secaucus, New Jersey. A man in a minor altercation literally melted the car in front of him. I don't know where you come from, Ms. Halliwell, but where I come from, you don't go melting people's cars when they cut you off. You do it the old fashioned way - you give 'em the finger." He paused, listening to the crowd to laugh. "But what you presume to tell this committee -"

"I presume nothing," I said angrily. "I am here to tell you that in time, the mutator gene will activate in every living human being on this planet. Perhaps even your children, Senator." I watched smugly as his expression shifted from confidence to fear for a moment, until he masked it back.

"I can assure you, there is no such creature in my genes." The room chuckle at the sound of this, and I had the satisfaction of watching his face burn red. He continued, however, in a much tighter voice. "Ms. Halliwell, we are not here to weed out mutants. The Registration Act is designed merely to assess their potential threat - if any - to national security." He paused again, pulling out another sheet.

_Wonderful, _I thought. Just what we need.

"I have here a list of names of identified mutants living right here in the United States."

_Crap. _"Senator…" I started, trying to think of a way to stop him.

"Here's a girl in Illinois who can walk through walls. Now what's to stop her from walking into a bank vault, or the White House, or," he pointed into the audience. "into their houses?"

"Senator, please.." I brushed my bangs out of my eyes, staring straight at the man. _If looks could kill…_ I stopped my self from smiling at how very true that statement could potentially be.

"...and there are even rumors, Miss Halliwell," I narrowed my eyes at him, "of mutants so powerful that they can enter our minds and control our thoughts, taking away our God-given free will." Double crap. "Now I think the American people deserve the right to decide if they want their children to be in school with mutants. To be taught by mutants! Ladies and gentlemen, the truth is that mutants are very real, and that they are among us. We must know who they are, and above all, what they can do!" The crowd's responding thunderous applause sunk my heart, and I dropped my head into my hands, trying to keep myself from ramming the man through with my claws.

* * *

><p>A tense silence was filling the trailer, and Logan was well aware of it. Another stupid move on his part. What was wrong with him tonight? First showing his claws, then picking up some runaway rat. Damn. What was he gonna do with her? He could take her to the nearest town and drop her off. Maybe give her some cash for food and a motel room. He didn't like company, and he certainly didn't want the company of a teenage girl who could possibly get him in trouble for kidnapping.<p>

"You don't have anything to eat, do you?" Logan tensed as she interrupted his rambling mind. He reached into the glove box and pulled out a couple energy bars, dropping them into her lap without a word. She unwrapped them and ate them hungrily, as though she hadn't eaten for a while. "I'm Rogue."

He didn't reply.

"Were you in the army? Doesn't, doesn't that mean you were in the arm?" Logan glanced at her, saw her staring at his tags. He hastily stuffed them back in his shirt. She stopped talking, takes a look around. She glanced back at his small trailer. "Wow," she said.

"What?" Logan growled.

She looked up at him, slight pity in her eyes. "It's just that, suddenly my life doesn't look that bad."

"Well, if you prefer the road…" Logan also didn't like pity. He made a move to pull over.

"No," the girl, Rogue, said quickly. "It looks great. It looks cozy."

It was quiet again. He noticed that the temperature had dropped about seven degrees. Next to him, Rogue was rubbing her hands together. It occurred to him that, while the weather didn't really affect him that much anymore, it must have been near painful to the girl, who looked as though she'd never been somewhere where the temp got below sixty. Logan reached over to grab her hands. "Put your hands on the heater."

Immediately, Rogue recoiled, pulling her hands away from him.

Both surprised and not, Logan moved his hands back to the wheel. "I'm not gonna hurt you kid." He murmured.

Rogue shook her head, gently tugging her gloves back on. "It's nothing personal. It's just that, when people touch my skin, something happens."

Logan glanced at her sideways. "What?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, they just get hurt." This time, Logan shrugged. He understood that. "Fair enough." Logan flexed his hand, hearing his knuckles crack.

"Does it hurt?" Rogue asked quietly.

Logan didn't respond for a minute. He thought back to the bar, how easily he had lost his control and nearly killed that guy. The way his claws had slid out so smoothly, so naturally… Like he was an animal, like he was made for that. "Every time."

Rogue nodded, looking out the window.

Determined not to be the animal, even if only for a while, Logan attempted to make decent conversation with the girl. "So, what kind of name is Rogue?"

"I don't know. What kind of name is Wolverine?" Rogue asked sarcastically.

Logan grinned slightly. "My name is Logan." He fingered the dog tags around his neck.

Rogue smiled, happy to have finally gotten him to talk. "Marie."

A comfortable silence finally filled the car, and Rogue settled back against the seat, warm and content.

* * *

><p>The dashboard clock read only four in the afternoon, and yet the girl was sleeping as if it was nearly two in the morning. Logan felt a surge of pity for her. He was tough, used to having the life of driving, rarely decent food, and a spongy cot for a bed. But this girl, Rogue, Marie, she wasn't. She was young, innocent. She deserved a home, a warm bed, good food. Wherever she had come from, she either needed to go back, or to start her own life. But the running… No, she shouldn't continue with that.<p>

The sky was darkening, the sun slipping below the mountainous Rockies. Logan jumped a bit as his trailer hit a bump in the road, and Rogue was jostled awake.

"Sorry, kid," Logan said softly. "Didn't mean to wake ya."

"No," Rogue mumbled, rubbing her eyes. "It's fine." She sat up straighter. "How long was I out for?"

"A good three hours." Logan answered. He hid his chuckle. She'd never make it as long as he had.

"Shoot, really? Man, I only meant to close my eyes for a minute," She huffed, readjusting her seatbelt. She looked over at him. "You know, you really should wear your seatbelt."

Logan almost spit out his cigar. "Now look kid, I don't need you giving me advice on auto-"

_**SLAM!**_

For a split second Logan felt the trailer shudder as a tree collided with the hood, and then he was thrown through the front window, his head shattering the glass. He heard Rogue scream, felt the freezing wind whip his face for about fifteen feet, then felt the cold snow collide with his body before everything went black.

Rogue sat stunned.

_Had that really just happened?_ She saw Logan's body, nearly twenty feet away, saw the hole in the windshield. There was no way he'd survived that. God, now what?

Rogue felt her cheeks go slightly numb, then reached up and felt the tears. She swiped them away angrily. She had to get out of this car. She reached down and tried to unbuckle her seatbelt. She tugged, but it wouldn't budge. _Damn_. Now she was stuck… alone… in the Canadian wilderness… with a dead guy. She struggled to wiggle out of the seat, but when she moved her left leg, a sharp pain shot up her thigh. She gasped, looking down at her leg.

Buried in her upper thigh, Rogue saw a piece of glass from the windshield, about four inches long. She stifled a yelp. She hadn't noticed it before, but now the pain was white-hot, and she couldn't help the tears that leaked out of her eyes this time.

She looked up, momentarily lost in how hopeless this situation was.

What she saw stopped her breath.

Out in the snow, Logan had begun to stand up. He got to his knees, rolled his neck. Slowly, tentatively, he stood all the way up, shaking off the snow. Rogue saw the cuts on his face slowly come back together, healing right before her eyes. She gulped.

"You alright?" She heard Logan call. Still slightly shocked, Rogue didn't answer. "Kid, you alright?" He yelled again.

Rogue blinked, shaking herself out of the daze. She shook her head, then yelled, "I'm stuck!"

Logan muttered something then made his way to the trailer. About five feet away from the car, Logan stopped. He sniffed the air, immediately weary of the strange, catlike scent filling the air. It smelled like a mountain lion, like sweat and the forest. Logan slid out his claws.

He stood still for a moment, then growled.

Logan spun around just in time, his claws making contact with the chest of a giant man. He tossed the creature into a tree. He stood up almost immediately, completely unaffected. The man was at least seven feet tall, with long, golden matted hair and a scraggly beard. His eyes were black, and the claws on each of his fingers were at least three inches long and razor sharp, as Logan found out when the beast's hand/paw made contact with his face.

Logan went flying back, narrowly missing a tree. He jumped up, swearing.

"Okay, whatever the hell you are, come and get me." Logan stood in his fighting stance as the man came running at him. He went to ram him with his claws again, but the creature beat him to it. He grabbed Logan by the throat and tossed him into the hood of the trailer, right in front of Rogue.

Ignoring the now motionless body of the Wolverine, the creature made his way over to Rogue, who was shaking in the front seat. Smoke was beginning to pour out of the back of the trailer, and she was coughing violently. _Shoot, shoot, shoot, _Rogue thought, the smoke fogging her brain. The fire had started in the back, she guessed when one of Logan's matched fell into the bottle of gas he kept back there.

Rogue desperately struggled to unhook the seatbelt, but it refused to move, and her leg was throbbing more and more violently. She glanced up to see the giant man no more than five feet away, coming closer with every step.

_I should have stayed in Mississippi, _Rogue thought miserably.

As soon as Rogue began to give up though, the snow gently falling from the sky turned into a near blizzard, and she lost sight of the creature. Fear and gratitude for the storm filling her chest, Rogue could do nothing but gape out the window as two more figures appeared.

One was a man, and one a women, both wearing leather bodysuits. The man had on a red visor thingy over his eyes, and the women's hair was white, much like her eyes, which were entirely fogged over. She could just make out the figure of the creature lunging at the man.

"Look out!" Rogue screamed. She seemed to be yelling that a lot tonight.

The man turned, his hand flying to the side of his visor. A bright red laser jet shot out from his eyes through the visor and hit the creature right in the chest. It went flying and hit the ground, unconscious.

Rogue, for the umpteenth time that night, sat stunned.

"Here," Rogue gasped as the woman with the white hair appeared beside her. She held her arms out for Rogue to climb in to.

"I-I'm stuck," Rogue said. She was surprised at how small her voice sounded to her ears.

"I got it," the man with the laser eyes said. "Don't move," he focused his visor on the seatbelt and shot the red light right through it.

_Well it'd be that easy for me too if I had eyes that shot lasers,_ Rogue mused. "My leg," she motioned to the glass. The woman's eyes grew a tad bit, and then she reached in and pulled Rogue out. She clung to the woman's neck as if it were life support.

The man with the visor shrugged Logan into his arms, and together, the four of them departed in what was probably the strangest thing Rogue had seen all night: A giant black jet hidden in the trees.

* * *

><p>"Haylee!"<p>

I knew that sound. I jumped up out of my lab chair, went to the doors and opened them up quickly. Scoot stood outside, holding the body of a man.

"Is this..?"

"I think so," Scoot said, bringing him in and setting him on the table.

"Where did you find him?" I asked, moving to strip off the his shirt.

"Up in Canada, northern Alberta." Scoot stood up against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. "He was out cold when we got there. He was with a girl. She was in his car when we found them, about to have her throat ripped out by Sabertooth."

"Sabertooth? Damn," I muttered. "And she's alive?"

"She's down with Jean. She got a piece of glass in her leg, but other than that she's fine."

I whistled quietly. "Wish I could say that for this guy. What happened?"

Scott chuckled. "My best guess? He got his butt handed to him by Sabertooth. He doesn't look to be severely hurt, but you're the expert, so I'll let you be the judge of that."

"Good idea," I grinned up at him.

He smiled easily back at me. "I'm going to go find the Professor. When he wakes up, send him down to Xavier's office, kay?"

"No problem," I murmured, my fingers going to the scars on his side. I distantly heard Scott walk out of the lab, but my attention was more on the stranger on my operating table.

Nearly every inch of his torso and arms had some kind of mark or scar on it. They were faint, impossible to see if you weren't looking for them, but they were there. I saw one just above his heart that resembled a healed bullet wound. But there was no way for him to have survived a shot right there. He had what looked like two bullet scars on his forehead, like someone had shot him point blank.

"What the…" I let my voice drift off. This man by all rights should be dead for all the marks on him. "What have you been through, bud?" My fingers brushed over his hand and I felt a chill pass over me.

"_Why is the moon so lonely?" _

_"Why?" _

"_Because she used to have a lover." _

I gasped, inching back from him. Where the hell had that come from? I squeezed my eyes shut as another shiver ran through me. In my mind's eye, I saw, only for a split second, the image of the man lying on the table, holding me around the waist, my arms draped over his neck, his lips at my throat. I could feel the tickle of his stubble, the touch of his fingers on my skin, the heat of his breath on my throat…

The first few lines of my dream ran through my mind again: _She used to have a lover_.

I turned my back to him, walking over to the counter. I rested my hands against the cool metal surface and dropped my head. _Breathe, girl, _I coached myself._ It's alright. Just breathe._

After a few deep breaths (and at least four mini-heart attacks), I forced myself to go back to the table. He was in here for medical attention, and it was my job to give it to him.

Gently, I began examining him for any major altercations. He seemed to be alright on the outside, but it was anyone's guess about internal damage. He needed to be x-rayed.

As I went to the side of the table to move him over to the x-ray machine, something caught my eye. Around his neck were two army-issued dog tags.

_That would explain the scars… Most of them, anyway._

Curiously, I picked up one tag. _Logan, _it read, accompanied by a bunch of numbers that I didn't understand the importance of. The other one, however, was what made my heartbeat speed up and my breath catch in my throat. It read: _Wolverine_.


End file.
